


Giving In

by WholockHobbit88



Series: Little Sherlock and John [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ABDL, Adult baby, Age Play, Daddy!John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Little Space, M/M, Punishments, Spanking, baby!Sherlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholockHobbit88/pseuds/WholockHobbit88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long and taxing case, Sherlock has a nervous breakdown and John decides to take him on holiday. While the trip is supposed to be relaxing, Sherlock resists falling into little space and John has no idea why. After a tumultuos first day, John uncovers the reason behind Sherlock's holding back and their relationship takes a whole new turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I based the case and Sherlock's breakdown on one of my favorite Sherlock Holmes' short stories "The Regient Squire" Of coruse its really just the premise for what got me thinking about it; I'm sure the age play and johnlock that follows would make Sir Arthur Conan Doyle turn over in his grave! This is one of my favorite stories I've written so far and I hope you all enjoy it too!

“Ah! It’s so hot! Why is it so bloody hot?!” Sherlock exclaimed in his whiniest and most annoying voice. Incidentally, it was the voice he’d used the entire ride and it took all of John’s self-control to not snap at him. 

“Its July…..of course it’s hot” John said, through gritted teeth as his knuckles turned a permeant shade of white on the steering wheel. He hated driving; he had only driven on a handful of occasions after being in Afghanistan. All things considered there, he had developed an unhealthy fear of driving. Only had to have their vehicle rolled by an explosive once before they lost their taste for driving. He was only doing it to put Sherlock at ease but he could see his efforts were being wasted. 

“Oh my god! This heat will be the death of me!” Sherlock said dramatically, throwing his head out of the window to catch a breeze. John didn’t point out the fact that Sherlock insisted on wearing a long sleeve shirt despite the burning heat. It had been trouble enough getting him in the shorts he was wearing. Getting him in anything other than his suit was a challenge. 

“I hate the beach!” Sherlock groaned, beating his head against the headrest of the seat. 

John silently counted to 10…..then 20…..then 30 before opening his mouth to comment. “You don’t hate the beach. You love it”

“Don’t tell me what I like!” Sherlock snapped. John gave up and remained silent. He knew part of Sherlock couldn’t help being so hateful and he didn’t want to make things worse. 

The past three months had been some of the hardest in Sherlock’s life. He had been asked to work on the biggest case of career, investigating an international case that was so private John was not allowed to come with Sherlock or ask him any questions about it. All John knew was that Sherlock was making frequent trips between London, America and Germany and working more hours than he ever had. John had been worried that the long trip, without John or his common comforts of his little time, would take a toll on Sherlock’s mental health but every time he talked to Sherlock on the phone he had acted fine. John had done his best to stay busy, taking more hours at the surgery now that he had so much free time, but it was hard. The flat was lonely and way too quiet. Most of his leisure hours were spent in pubs with Stamford or hanging out in Mrs. Hudson’s flat; she understand how hard it was for John to be separated from Sherlock for such a long time. It didn’t help that John no longer had a dating life to occupy him. After all of the years of saying that he and Sherlock didn’t care for each in the way people thought they did, he finally admitted to himself that there was something there. He had no desire to date anyone else and after a few adult kisses between them, John knew something was happening. He was selfishly upset that Sherlock had had to go on his trip before they had been able to discuss the growing feelings between them. He’d done his best to push the feelings down and focus on other things.

Sherlock had, after 95 long days, solved the case and returned to 221B. It wasn’t the great homecoming that John had expected though. As soon as he had seen Sherlock he knew something was very wrong with him. He was deathly pale, sweaty and confused. He didn’t seem to understand anything around him; an hour later he’d collapsed, holding his chest. John had almost had a heart attack himself as he had watched the paramedics pull him from their flat. It had been one of John’s scariest nights, waiting around to find out what had happened to Sherlock. Fortunately, he hadn’t had a heart attack like John had suspected. The work he’d been doing in the past few months had taken such a toll on his psyche and he had neglected his own personal care so much that he’d had a nervous breakdown, culminating in a major anxiety attack. Though John was relieved that the incident wasn’t fatal, he felt terrible. He felt responsible even though he knew that wasn’t fair to himself. Sherlock’s little time helped to keep him in balance; John liked to think that he had kept him in balance. With none of his normal coping mechanism around, Sherlock had given into his stress. As far as John knew, he hadn’t fallen back on his old dangerous methods of self-soothing of drugs and self-harm but he fairly sure it was Sherlock’s holding his emotions in for months that had caused the breakdown. The doctor had suggested it would be very beneficial to Sherlock’s health to take a holiday, and John agreed, so he had planned it all. Stamford had a cabin on the beach that he was happy to let him borrow, of which John was extremely grateful. 

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Sherlock whined, breaking him from his thoughts. 

“We’re almost there” John assured him calmly. 

“I have to go to the bathroom NOW!” Sherlock said in a voice that spoke of an oncoming tantrum even though he was still resisting being little. 

“Well, I think there’s an old bottle in the backseat you can use” John said, becoming annoyed himself. He didn’t want to anger Sherlock and make him upset but that didn’t mean he had to be such a little shit either. 

Sherlock glared at John. “You really expect me to do that?” he asked with a look that could kill. 

“Well, you didn’t let me put you in a nappy, so……your fault. I tried to tell you” John said. For whatever reason, Sherlock seemed to be resisting being little. When he had brought him home from the hospital, he had tried to give him the full baby treatment that he deserved but he wouldn’t let him. He had tried to get Sherlock to let him put him in a nappy for the trip, for baby and practical reasons but he had said no to that too. 

Sherlock, miraculously stayed quiet the rest of the trip. John opened his window further and took in the ever growing scent of the sea wafting into the car to focus on it and not the nerves of driving. 

When John pulled up to the cabin, he was pleasantly pleased with it. It was far enough from the boardwalk and the other cabins that he and Sherlock would have plenty of privacy, but not so far that it would be difficult to get anywhere. The cabin was sitting directly at the sand, white and weathered from the sea air and multiple paintings, the ocean within feet of the cabin’s back door. It was perfect and John felt his spirits lift; as poor as Sherlock’s mood was, this place was sure to help him feel at ease. John had packed all of Sherlock’s little things, hopeful that this holiday would give them plenty of time for Sherlock to be little. John also hoped, somewhat selfishly, maybe, that it would provide time to talk about the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He wanted to know where they stood after Sherlock’s confusing rant about how his feelings for John were getting so big they were ‘consuming him’ and John’s kissing Sherlock. 

Sherlock was quiet as they got out of the car and John collected the bags out of the boot. “So, what do you think?” John asked, watching Sherlock look around at the rolling sea, their private stretch of beach and the small cabin. 

“It’s hot” Sherlock complained tiredly. John sighed but didn’t say anything. He really hoped that Sherlock was going to get out of this bad attitude and let himself relax. Contrary to his current mood, John knew he loved the ocean and the beach. If he’d just relax, he was sure that it was just what he needed. If Sherlock was little, John would insist that he needed a nap. 

John stepped into the cabin, tossing the bags on the floor as Sherlock followed him. It was a nice, small little space. The kitchen and living room created one large open space. The kitchen was small but furnished with modern appliances, a large island in the middle of the kitchen as the dining table. Dark, weathered wooden floors that were constantly covered in some amount of sand led into the living room, furnished with wooden ‘beachy’ style furniture and a generous sized flat screen telly. Down a small hallway led to the cabins one bedroom (John hoped that Sherlock was in a better mood by bedtime or it would cause trouble) and the bathroom which Stamford had bragged was quite impressive with its large whirlpool tub. 

“Well, isn’t this just a nice little place? I love it” John said, looking around the room. He wondered where Sherlock had wandered and found him when he heard a large sigh. 

Sherlock was sitting on one of the stools at the island, leaning his head on his hand like a petulant child. “Why did we have to come here? Why couldn’t we stay home?” he asked in irritation. His voice sounded considerably younger and John hoped that he would just drop into little space already and get it over with. Then John could punish him for acting like the brat he was and he could finally release the pent up emotions that he was still holding inside. 

“Because the doctors said you had a nervous breakdown and it would do you good to get away” John said in his ‘daddy’ tone, hoping to push Sherlock into a submissive attitude.   
He was pleased to see that it worked. “I didn’t have a nervous breakdown!” he yelled, slamming his fists on the island in a classic tantrum fashion. John almost welcomed a tantrum at this point. If Sherlock could get mad, really mad, he would break down and finally cry like he needed to. 

“Okay, you might not have had a nervous breakdown” John said even though it was obvious that he did. “But you did have an anxiety attack. A pretty severe one. It’ll do you good getting away.”

“I’ve been bloody away for three months dad” Sherlock sassed, scowling at John. It was an odd mix of adult and little, as if he was still fighting it or trying to control it. He never cursed in little space unless he wanted his mouth washed with soap and never called him dad. 

“Hey, don’t you sass me, young man” John ordered pointing a finger at Sherlock, instantly assuming father mindset. “Just because we aren’t home doesn’t mean I can’t still put you over my knee here.”

“I want to go home!” Sherlock shouted. There was a bowl fruit on the table along with a pitcher of water and glasses; in one fell swoop, Sherlock swept these off of the table with his arm. They crashed to the floor and broke into a thousand pieces. 

John wondered for a moment if this was the best thing; Sherlock was right. He had been away from home so long maybe he really needed to be there. But he was also sure that if Sherlock got out of this mood, he would enjoy being here. He decided to stick it out for a bit longer. 

“Sherlock Holmes, what a mess you’ve made” John chided Sherlock, walking over to Sherlock and putting his hands on his hips. If this was what the way Sherlock wanted things to start, he could do that. 

Sherlock didn’t response, he just kept his head on the table, not looking at him. 

“Sherlock, pick this up right now. You’ve made a terrible mess.” John commanded. 

Sherlock looked up, positively leering at him. “No…..I won’t” he defied him. 

John’s blood began to boil; on top of everything else….. “Yes, you will or you will be in very big trouble” He said, using his captain’s voice that Sherlock loved so much. 

Sherlock seemed completely unaffected by it. “You’d have to catch me first” he taunted him before running out of the room and toward the bedroom area. 

John felt his temper rising and he forced himself to wait a moment before following Sherlock. He didn’t care if Sherlock was under stress, he was asking for a spanking. To not give him one with that kind of behavior was undermining John’s full authority as his daddy. He paused, and then followed Sherlock; he wanted to spank him but he didn’t want to be so angry he ended up hurting him. 

When John found Sherlock, he was crouched on the floor, in the corner next to the bed; he hadn’t even locked the door so it was obvious that he wanted to be followed. His face was red but he was grinning in an ominous way that made John worry. 

“Sherlock, what do you think you’re doing?” John commanded, giving Sherlock a chance to get up and do something. He was afraid he might spring at him if he approached him. 

“Hiding…..from you” Sherlock said in a sassy tone. John was used to Sherlock giving him occasional sass but this much he was not used to. 

“Why? Why are you hiding from me?” John asked. 

“Because you’re going to hit me” Sherlock said. He didn’t sound sad about it but he didn’t sound happy either. 

“I don’t hit you, I spank you” John clarified. He didn’t want anyone, epically Sherlock, thinking he abused him. He spanked him on the bottom and that was it. 

“I don’t care……go ahead and hit me if you like.” Sherlock taunted. 

John was at a loss; where was this attitude coming from? He didn’t know exactly what to do here. He slowly approached Sherlock, “I am not going to hit you. I don’t want to hit you. I only-“ he cut off when he had gotten close enough to Sherlock to take in the obvious scent. Now the red face and toddler hiding pose made sense. 

“Sherlock, did you mess your pants?” John asked, feeling his anger creeping up again. 

Sherlock looked up and him and smiled. “Yep” he said, laughing about it. He was proud….. PROUD of it……John was at the end of his rope. He didn’t understand why Sherlock would do this. Unlike himself, Sherlock took no pleasure in wet pants and he never wet himself if he didn’t have a nappy on. And he certainly never messed his pants; aside from sickness related accidents, Sherlock never messed in his nappies either. It was too messy for him; so why on earth would he have willingly messed his pants when there was a bathroom five feet away? To piss him off, most likely; well, it had worked. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” John asked, completely filled with anger. He grabbed Sherlock by the arm before he could say anything smart again and pulled him toward the bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked in confusion, his confidence brought down a few pegs as John removed Sherlock’s shoes and socks. 

“I can’t let you sit in your filth, obviously!” he snapped, annoyed. All he wanted was a quiet weekend alone with Sherlock, to relax, to be little….to hold him and maybe even get chance to kiss him again (god help him!) like a normal person. This wasn’t what he wanted. 

John turned the water on in the tub, miffed that this was the first use for the big tub. “Step in there” John commanded, surprised when Sherlock complied. Once Sherlock had got into the tub, John took off his trousers and messy pants, trying to be as quick about it as possible. He tossed the pants in the trash, not even going to attempt to save them, and stood up. 

“I’m going to get you some clean clothes. Don’t you dare move from this spot” John ordered Sherlock in his most commanding tone before leaving the room. Anger and disappointment ran through him like a poison as he went back to where he’d dropped the bags. He got out a clean pair of trousers, pants and a nappy that he hoped Sherlock let him put him in. After this very ugly display, John hardly thought he deserved to wear pants. 

John was still fuming when he returned to the bathroom. To his astonishment, Sherlock had actually listened. He was on his knees in the tub, his arms resting over the top, already assuming clean up position. When John entered the room, Sherlock looked up at him with sad, puppy dog eyes and that’s when John broke inside.   
He was being selfish…..this trip wasn’t supposed to be about him at all. Undoubtedly, Sherlock was acting like a spoiled brat, but this trip was supposed to be about him. While John had been at home whining about being lonely, Sherlock had been working to solve an international crisis, doing God only knows what. Sherlock deserved care from the one person he could fully be himself around. 

John got a flannel and put it in the water and began the messy job of cleaning Sherlock up. He looked up at John with sad, wide eyes the entire time; it seemed all of his bravado was gone. John couldn’t help but notice, now that he could see Sherlock’s body for the first time since the case, that he had lost considerable weight, weight he didn’t need to loose. 

“You didn’t eat while you were away, did you?” John asked. He kept his voice quiet but it was obvious that it wasn’t a rhetorical question. 

“I ate” Sherlock said vaguely seemingly deflated after his big fit. 

“You know what I mean…..you didn’t eat twice a day like you’re supposed to” John reminded him of their agreed upon arraignment, “Doesn’t look like you even ate once every day.”

Sherlock pouted. “Wasn’t time….” Was all he said. John finished washing Sherlock’s backside and had him turn so that John could clean his bits. John was surprised to see, for the first time ever, a blush on Sherlock’s face as he did this; like he was embarrassed for some reason. 

“Anything you want to tell me about you being away? Anything bothering you?” John supplied. Maybe if he gave Sherlock a chance to talk, he would open up and let him know why he was acting this way. 

“No…..” Sherlock said quietly. He remained silent as John put a towel around him and dried him off. John didn’t push him to talk though he knew basically nothing about what had happened to him over the past three months. 

“Want me to put you in a nappy?” John asked hopefully, holding it out. 

“No” Sherlock replied quickly. 

“Come on, it’d make you feel better” John encouraged.

“No……want pants!” Sherlock said with the stamp of his foot. 

“Okay, okay!” John said, not wanting another fight. He thought it was a bad idea, but he wouldn’t push Sherlock to be little. Maybe Sherlock felt like a toddler, exerting that he wanted to wear pants even though he might have accidents. It was alright; John didn’t really mind accidents, especially if they were wet accidents. 

John helped Sherlock into his pants and clean trousers, forgoing the socks and shoes; he wouldn’t need them here and it would make less of mess if he had an accident. 

“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” John said, taking Sherlock’s hand “We’ll clean up the mess and then get some lunch.”

Sherlock stopped dead. “I’m not cleaning that mess up!” he said, stopping his foot and knotting his fists up. 

John sighed; great, here we go again. “Yes, you are” John said sternly, hoping that was enough to make him listen. “Did you think you’d get out of listening just because you messed your pants?” 

“I’m not cleaning it up!” Sherlock said, throwing himself down in the floor, kicking his legs and flailing his arms in a full blown temper tantrum. His behavior today definitely had the terrible twos written all over it. 

“Sherlock, if you don’t get up right this instant and do as I ask, you will get a spanking” John said in his sternest voice. While he was trying to be understanding, and he thought Sherlock waivered in the bathroom, he was now back on his bent to get a spanking. 

“No!No!No!” Sherlock said over and over again, kicking and yelling. 

“Well, then I have no choice but to give you a spanking” John said, resigned. “You’re being very naughty.”

John didn’t even try to wrestle Sherlock over his lap; as much as he fought it would be impossible. He knelt down beside him, giving Sherlock a few firm smacks on the bum with his trousers still on. Sherlock screamed far too dramatically, hurting John’s ears but he kept on. He pulled Sherlock’s trousers and pants down far enough to expose his bum and spanked him until his skin was thoroughly red; it would leave a lasting sting, for the rest of the day at least and John felt it was justified for Sherlock’s terrible behavior of the day.   
It had succeeded at least in breaking Sherlock. After John pulled his pants and trousers back up, Sherlock curled onto a ball in the floor, hands over his face, openly sobbing. It didn’t bring John any pleasure but he knew it would be good for Sherlock. Usually a good smacking was the only way to Sherlock to get the release he needed.   
“I’m going to leave you to think about what you did” John said, “You need to think about making better choices.” He leaned down and gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek even though he flinched away from the touch. “And always remember daddy loves you” 

John stood up and walked out of the cabin, leaving Sherlock crying on the floor. The second that he closed the door behind him, Sherlock’s crying turned to flat out screaming. John sat down on the steps of the cabin, throwing off his shoes and burying his feet into the sand. He was glad that their cabin was so far removed from other people; any closer and there would no doubt be someone on their doorstep thinking someone was murdering Sherlock the way he was screaming. John hated it, this part; leaving Sherlock to cry by himself. It was something they discussed in the very beginning of starting this. Sherlock needed to cry but he hated doing it completely open, even around John. When he was spanked, he needed John to leave for a while to get it all out. 

Sherlock screamed for longer than John thought humanly possible, never even wavering; if it wasn’t so heartbreaking it would be impressive. Waiting on him to compose himself, John let his thoughts wonder as he stared out over the ocean. He tried to place his thoughts about his feelings for Sherlock, even though he knew it would be impossible.   
He loved the crazy, completely mental man screaming in the house behind him. Despite everything, he really did. Actually, he had for a long time. From their very first meeting, he had been completely and totally infatuated with him; he knew instinctively that there was something special about him. He had never just wanted to be with someone as much as he had Sherlock; most people would have heeded the multiple people that told him to stay away from Sherlock but he knew better. He’d killed a man with 24 hours of meeting him to save his life; you didn’t do that for just anyone. They had lived a comforted, friendly relationship as flat mate and partners for a couple of years; if asked, John would not have admitted that he loved Sherlock even though he loved him like a close brother. Once he started acting as Sherlock’s caregiver, his love for the man had expanded in so many ways. They not only worked and lived together, but he looked out for every detail of Sherlock’s care like a parent would. It was a deep, intimate love that he had never known could exist. To need someone and be needed so much had added so much to John’s life. He had never known he could be loved as much as Sherlock loved him in little space.   
People had always assumed they were a couple and John had always been insistent that they weren’t. Despite the intimacy and the crossing of lines that their age play added to their relationship, things had never become sexual. They had slept together, bathed together, changed each other’s nappies; they had seen each other naked so often it wasn’t even weird now. But things had still remained innocent. Until……well…..it hadn’t. 

John had broken their unspoken rule, one they’d never made but that John knew they shared. They never kissed when both were being adult. The first time it happened, John had been able to push it away; Sherlock was in drug detox, vulnerable and ill. Both could chalk it up to being weak. The second time……it hadn’t been an accident and he knew they had both felt something. That was nothing to say of that ill-fated tickling incident that had resulted in him sucking on Sherlock’s neck. The sound that Sherlock had made when he had done it still appeared in his dreams some times. 

John didn’t want to admit it; it was scary. He wasn’t gay, no matter what anyone said. He didn’t like men……he liked Sherlock. Was there a word for someone that liked women and one very special guy? He knew he didn’t need to classify himself but it still felt strange. And….it was Sherlock. He didn’t even know what a relationship with him would be like. Sherlock was far from conventional and though John couldn’t even judge for himself how he felt about the sex issue, eventually it would matter. 

After what felt like an eternity, John heard the crying and screaming begin to taper off and then go silent. Eager to get things cleared between them and make the day better, John stood up and walked back into the cabin. He smiled when he saw Sherlock. 

He was miraculously still where John had left him, still curled up in the positon he wept in. And he was fast sleep. John knelt next to him, using his thumb to wipe the still wet tears out of the corners of Sherlock’s eyes. His face was red, completely exerted; John was sure that he desperately needed some sleep. Who wouldn’t need a long nap after screaming bloody murder for an hour? 

John lifted Sherlock under the arms and dragged him toward the couch. Despite the fact that Sherlock had lost a lot of weight and he was skinny to begin with, when he was asleep he was dead weight and not easily movable. John lifted him onto the couch, stretching his long legs out on the couch. Feeling a swelling of love for the crazy bastard, John gave him a kiss on the forehead. 

Sure that Sherlock would sleep for at least an hour or two, John left the cabin and set off down the beach in search for lunch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short. I promise the next one will be longer! :) please review

The day was blaringly hot, John was soaked with sweat within minutes but he managed it happier than Sherlock had; maybe he was just used to it after being in the desert for years. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was so happy to get away. It was summer, he was at the beach and it was just him and Sherlock. Right now, no one could take Sherlock away from him. 

John walked through the hot sand the short way to the boardwalk. It was the middle of the day on a weekday so it wasn’t that busy and John found a seafood restaurant to order food at. He didn’t want to leave Sherlock alone for very long and he didn’t want to eat alone either so he ordered take away and waited the short time it took for them to make the food. He’d tried to pick out something for Sherlock he thought he might have some chance of eating; it was obvious that he needed some large meals. He already knew though he’d have to scope out an Italian or Chinese restaurant for dinner if he hoped to get Sherlock to eat a great deal of food. 

When the food was ready he carried the bag back to the cabin, enjoying the sunshine and the rush of the ocean; even he was reaching the limits of how hot he liked to be and he was sure to try to convince Sherlock to swim after they had lunch. 

When John got back in the cabin he was relieved to find that Sherlock hadn’t woken to caused trouble in his absence but less relieved when he got closer to him. Sherlock was lying on his back, his face red and covered in sweat, rolling around and whimpering in his sleep. Wanting to let him sleep but not wanting to let him suffer through an obvious nightmare, John gave his shoulder a gentle shake. 

“Sherlock…..wake up” John called out. 

Sherlock twitched and then flinched awake. He looked confusedly around the room before his eyes settled on John. He looked scared and shaken. “Hey…..you alright?” John asked gently. “Looked like you were having a bit of a scare.”

Sherlock rubbed a hand over his face, still looking shaken. “I’m…..I’m fine” he said. He put his legs over the side of the couch and stretched. “You went to get lunch, I see” he pointed to the bag that John had set of the floor when he had sat on the edge of the couch. 

“Yeah…..I found a nice little seafood place on the boardwalk” John said. “Got you some lunch too.”

“I’m not hungry” Sherlock said. He didn’t act little like he did before he went to sleep. He got off of the couch and walked into kitchen to get some water. 

John carried the food to the table and set it down. “You need to eat, Sherlock. You’re too thin” he insisted, putting the containers on the table. 

Sherlock got frustrated and stamped his foot. “I’m….fine!” his voice was much littler now. It was strange to John. It seemed that he was fighting the urge to be little and John didn’t understand why. He never had before; usually Sherlock used every free second of his time off to be little. That he should be resisting it now was odd. 

John walked over to Sherlock and put his arms around him from behind, hugging him. He was half expecting to get hit. “I’m just worried you didn’t take care yourself while you were away” John said softly. “I wish I could have been there to care for you.”

Sherlock slumped, as if losing the fight he’d had in him. He turned around in John’s arms, facing him to hug him back. “I know……thanks…..” Sherlock said seriously. He pulled John to him so much that he nearly lifted him off of the ground, holding him to him. John could feel Sherlock’s face in the crook of his neck, warm air brushing on his skin. John held on tightly to Sherlock knotting his hands in the back of his shirt. He rubbed his face into Sherlock’s chest, forgetting where he was for a moment. He could feel the beating of his heart, always so fast, against his ear. This…..this was nice……John might be confused about it all but this was nice and he knew it. 

Eventually Sherlock broke the embrace; John felt he could have stayed that way all afternoon. 

“So……lunch, then” Sherlock said, clearing his throat and giving John a smile. 

John smiled back. “Yeah….lunch” he agreed. 

…….  
They had almost made it through lunch without incident; Sherlock had picked at his food but he was in good spirits. John had promised to get him ice cream after he ate his lunch (bribery he knew) and surprisingly, Sherlock had acted adult and composed throughout the meal. John was convinced that Sherlock’s terrible behavior earlier was all because he’d needed the emotional release. Now that he’d had it, he was alright. 

Or so John thought until the end of the meal. “I’m done” Sherlock said, picking at the remains of his seafood pasta. All in all, John was sure that he’d only eaten half of it; most of the time he’d just been chopping it up and not eating it. But John had said that he had to eat it all and he wasn’t finished. 

“You need to eat it all before we get ice cream” John said, pushing his cleaned plate away from himself. 

Sherlock’s eyes darkened. “I said, I’m done” he said, rising anger in his tone. 

He could have let it go; Sherlock wasn’t even being fully little. But John knew that his insistence on follow through with Sherlock showed he really cared about him and he wasn’t giving in. “You can be done, but you’re not getting any ice cream unless you finish your lunch.”

Sherlock’s face turned red with anger and John could see a fight coming on. Sherlock raised his arm, threating, just the way he had done with the fruit and glasses earlier. He looked at John as if he dared him to stop him. 

“Sherlock Holmes, if you throw your plate in the floor you will be in big trouble. You will get a spanking and I know your bum is still sore from the last one. And there will be no ice cream all day.”

Sherlock fixed him with another taunting gaze like earlier before sweeping his food into the floor. It wasn’t glass, so the mess wasn’t as satisfying as Sherlock watched it fall to the floor. John sighed internally as he watched Sherlock give him a threatening look; daring him to do it. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” John burst out before he could think about how to talk to his little boy. Sherlock was known for being naughty, but never this much all in one day. It was like he’d saved all of his naughtiness up from the past three months. 

“I want ice cream!” Sherlock hissed at him, unphased by John’s anger. 

“And I said no!” John thundered back. He stood up from his stool, taking his belt off. Finally, some fear came into Sherlock’s eyes; he hated the belt. John didn’t intend to use it much; Sherlock would still be red and he didn’t want to really hurt him it was more for fear factor. 

“Take you trousers off” John ordered, “And get over here.”

Sherlock had recovered from his initial fear and now seemed eager to show that he wasn’t afraid of John. Looking haughty at him, Sherlock dropped his drawers and walked over to him. It was out of pure kindness that John let him keep his pants on; if he was really being a hard-ass like he should have been, he would have made him take them off.   
John sat on the stool and pulled Sherlock so that he was lying over his knee. He gave Sherlock a few light smacks on the bum with the belt; Sherlock flinched but didn’t cry. John increased his pressure and though Sherlock jumped each time he didn’t cry or apologize. In fact, when John was done, only stopping because he didn’t want to severely hurt his bottom, Sherlock still hadn’t cried, screamed or spoken a word. It was unheard of and John didn’t like it. Without the apologies and crying, it just felt like he was hurting Sherlock, not giving him what he needed. 

Sherlock stood up, pulled his trousers back on and crossed his arms over his chest as if daring John to do more. It’s like he wanted John to beat him; well, that wasn’t going to happen. He was not that kind of guy. “Go lie down in the bedroom and don’t get up” John ordered him but it lacked his usual bite; he felt he was failing Sherlock somehow. 

Like a self-confident teenager, Sherlock kept his arms crossed and stomped off toward the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. John slumped on the stool, defeated. This was exhausting. He didn’t know what to do for Sherlock. Half of the time he was little, half the time he was big. He didn’t know how to treat him and his adult and little feelings were getting all mixed up. He didn’t know what to do for Sherlock; the spanking had obviously not affected him. He knew in the past Sherlock had paid escorts to beat him when he was especially bad; he felt he needed it. But that hadn’t been for a while and John had hoped he was past it. John couldn’t bear to beat Sherlock and he couldn’t stand for anyone else to touch him. He was so protective now he was sure that he would kill anyone if they touched him. 

John didn’t hear any noise coming from the bedroom; fearing Sherlock was going in his pants again or getting up some other mischief, John poked his head into the bedroom. He felt his heart melt when he saw what Sherlock was actually doing. 

He wasn’t breaking anything, making a mess or doing anything to get in trouble. He was curled into a little ball in the middle of the bed, blankie over his face, crying. It wasn’t the loud crying of earlier, the one with screaming and yelling that demanded attention. It was the silent crying of someone that was trying to hide it. He had been affected; just in a different way. 

Maybe he should have left Sherlock to cry it out on his own; maybe that’s what he wanted. But it had been so long and he missed him so much. John just wanted to hold him more than anything right now. 

Not announcing his presence, John walked into the room and lay on the bed behind him. He pulled Sherlock close to him. “Come here, love” John urged him, trying to turn him around. Sherlock easily accepted, rolling over and burying his face into John’s chest. John didn’t care about Sherlock being a brat; he didn’t care about the hellish mood swings. This was all that mattered. John pulled Sherlock as close as he could, holding him with one arm and running his fingers through his hair with the other. He rocked him gently with his body, quietly whispering, “shhhhhh…..” until Sherlock’s cries died down. 

“I’m….sorry…..I’m…..so…..messed up….” Sherlock said in a shaky voice. 

John pulled back, giving Sherlock a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “Shhh…..you are my perfect mess” he said. “At least you don’t have a psychosomatic limp, right?” 

He was glad when to see it made Sherlock laugh, genuinely laugh for the first time since he’d gotten home.  
……  
John had stayed true to his word and not let Sherlock get an ice cream even though he’d been too adorable after his crying incent. He’d almost given in when he saw the strange spanking induced gait he had going; it was like he had a permeant wedgie. 

The cabin had been stifling and so John had suggested a swim in the ocean which Sherlock had happily agreed to. When he John turned to retrieve his swimsuit from the bedroom, Sherlock took off and ran out the front door of the cabin. Worried about his behavior, John followed him to see Sherlock running through the sand in reckless abandon, stopping at the water’s edge. He watched from a distance as Sherlock threw his shirt and trousers off. 

“What are you doing?” John asked, running awkwardly through the sand towards him. 

Sherlock turned and smiled at him. “Going for a swim!” he said happily. John didn’t have to wonder if Sherlock was being little when a moment later he pulled his pants down, standing completely naked and proud in the open summer air. John shamelessly searched his winter pale skin for any signs of injuries he might have self-inflicted while away and was glad to see there were none. 

“You can’t just be out here….naked!” John said, trying to cover Sherlock up from potential onlookers. 

“No one’s around…..no one can see me” Sherlock said. “Daddy, you’re being silly.”

John had to admit that Sherlock had a point; there was no one close enough to see. “You’re not bothered being naked?” he asked. 

“Be a little reckless, John” Sherlock insisted, throwing his hands up. John was still confused by his switching around of big and little talk and behavior. 

“Okay, fine, swim naked if you like, I’m getting my bathing suit” John said. Sherlock grabbed his hand. When John turned around, Sherlock had a hand over his mouth, giggling like a naughty three year old. 

“Take your clothes off too, daddy” he giggled. “Be naughty. It’s fun.”

“Sherlock, I’m not taking my clothes off where people could potentially see this old body of mine” John said, gesturing to himself. The last time he’d skinny dipped was 20 years ago and there was good reason for that; it was hardly acceptable now. 

“But daddy…..you’re so pretty. I like looking at you” Sherlock insisted. 

John felt his face flush all of the way to his ears “Wait….what?” he asked, taken aback. Every inch of his skin seemed to blush. 

“You’re pretty” Sherlock repeated, as if John was hard of understanding. “I think you look pretty. You’re warm and soft in all of the right places. You don’t let me look at you much but I like it.”

“Sherlock….you don’t really mean that” John was stuck between being confused and flattered. That anyone could find beauty in his body was a miracle. But it was such an adult thing to say he didn’t know how to feel about it when the compliment was phrased with ‘daddy’. 

“I do” Sherlock said, “I like feeling your skin……I like looking at it. Please……”

John was confused but too flattered to try and figure out what his exact thoughts were. It was all mixed up, but maybe that was just Sherlock’s way of figuring it out. And he did feel like being reckless. “Okay…..I’ll do it” John relented. Sherlock smiled in expectation, watching as John threw off his shirt, trousers and finally his pants. It was odd, weird…..he’d not been naked in the open air since the army. But Sherlock’s smile made it worth it. 

“Yeah, daddy’s being a bad boy too!” he enthused, taking John’s hand and running with him into the water.

The rush of the waves against him, cool on such a hot day was a welcome relief. He had to admit that it was especially freeing to have the water be able to touch him all over, unrestricted with clothes. 

In a moment he a little, skinny body wrapped around him, floating with the waves. Sherlock had wrapped himself around John’s front like a kola bear, laughing the whole time.   
“See, this is nice” Sherlock said, laying his head on John’s shoulder as John wrapped his arms around him and let the waves push them gently. And it was, extremely nice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so terribly long to get posted. I have been overwhelmed with other things and I apologize. I hope this chapter you find worth the wait :)

Beginning to feel the sun baking his skin, John reluctantly insisted that he and Sherlock go into the cabin and give the swimming a rest. Sherlock hadn't wanted to go back in; he probably would have stayed in the ocean all day if John had let him. John had to admit that he was only doing it so they didn't both get terrible sunburns. It had been so nice, floating in the ocean, feel of the waves on his skin, Sherlock clinging to him most of the time.

John and Sherlock had run from the ocean to the cabin, laughing at the humor of their broad day skinny dip and burst into the door. John had gone to the bathroom to dry off and change into his clothes. Sherlock hasn't followed him into the bedroom and John found him crouched in the floor in front of the telly, switching through the channels. He seemed completely unphased by the fact that he was soaking wet and still completely naked.

"You going to put some clothes on or is going to be a full moon all day?" John asked with humor as he tossed a towel in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock only a moment to turn around and give him a confused look before the towel hit him in the face, covering confusion; the things that confused Sherlock never failed to surprise John.

Sherlock began to dry off and head in the direction of the bedroom. "You want me to put you in a nappy?" John asked, feeling a sudden longing that he didn't understand. He didn't understand Sherlock's apparent avoidance of them ever since he had been away. He'd thought that Sherlock would have been eager to start wearing them as soon as he got home, at least as soon as he'd gotten home from the hospital. But he hadn't and John didn't understand. He hoped that Sherlock's trying to fight his little side didn't mean that he was getting over it. John didn't know if that was possible but he didn't want to find out first hand that it was.

Sherlock stopped half way to the bedroom, dropping his towel almost as if to cover himself. "No…..that's okay" Sherlock said. He said it nonchalantly but John felt like it was a personal insult.

"Is there some reason why you don't want me to?" John asked. His voice sounded suddenly needy and he hated it.

"I just don't feel very little right now" Sherlock said vaguely before disappearing back into the bedroom.

John tried to not to be upset by it; he tried to only think about the good afternoon they had just spent in the water. But Sherlock's behavior; having terrible tantrums, messing himself, addressing John big and little interchangeably suggested that he was feeling little. But for some reason John couldn't fathom, he was trying to fight it. Considering John knew that it was a major part of him, he could only assume that fighting it would only end badly.

…

A quick check through the phone book and John was able to find an Italian restaurant within walking distance from their cabin. Convinced that he could get Sherlock to eat a decent amount, hopefully without a tantrum, John and Sherlock set off down the beach. Sherlock was in good spirits though John still classified his behavior as 'unusual'. Sherlock walked along the beach, alternating between walking painfully slow and practically skipping along the sand, commenting at the most random details. He seemed to have forgotten the hate of the heat of earlier, blabbering on about the sunshine, the sand, the ocean. When they were almost to the restaurants, Sherlock grew quiet. John could see him out of the corner of his eyes, wrenching his hands together and giving John a nervous smile. John knew it well as the look he gave John when he wanted something.

"What's with the look?" John asked, a smile turning at his lips as Sherlock's behavior.

Sherlock gave a skip of a walk, running his hand through his hair, smiling slyly. "N-nothing" he said.

John tilted his head toward him. "Come on, Sherlock" he said knowingly. "I know you want something. What is it?"

"Uh….um….." Sherlock said, bouncing slightly on his feet in an uncharacteristic nervous action before he reached out impulsively and grabbed John's hand, taking it in his own.

"You want to hold my hand?" John asked, unable to hide a smile as he felt his hand growing warm against Sherlock's.

Sherlock's excitement implied that he was still fighting being little but he was big at the moment. "Y-yes" he said shyly, giving John's hand a squeeze.

John felt his cheeks warm; maybe this trip wasn't going to be a disaster like he'd thought earlier. But, then again, he couldn't believe the man shyly holding his hand was the same one who had earlier messed his pants on purpose to make him mad.

John and Sherlock had walked all the way to the Italian restaurant, hand in hand, enjoying the quiet and relaxed company of each other. It was an odd moment when Sherlock was so silent and calm and John breathed it in. He was feeling positively at ease when they finally reached the restaurant. There was a long wait to get in, right at the peak of dinner time, and he and Sherlock had had to wait. John had reluctantly let go of Sherlock's hand as they had sat down in a few remaining chairs by the door. It was loud and crowded in the restaurant and John could see instantly that Sherlock seemed to get irritated by all of the noise. He shifted in his seat, wrenched his hands and even bit his nails; John tried to engage him in conversation, even calling to memory some of his favorite cases but he didn't seem to want to talk. It made John wish they had just kept walking.

When John was just about to suggest that they leave, they finally were sitted at a table. "Well, this is nice" John commented vaguely, glancing at the menu and willing the people around them to be quiet. Sherlock held a menu but he was staring daggers at a table across from them that had three screaming toddlers at it.

"We could get some wine" John suggested. They were in the corner, candles on the table; aside from all of the noise it was the perfect ambience. He just wanted Sherlock to relax.

"No…..no…." Sherlock said. His eyes were darting around, looking at everyone as if they were a potential threat to be eliminated. He rubbed his eyes, brushing back his hair in an anxious fashion.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asked, setting his menu down and looking at Sherlock with genuine concern. He was twitching now so heavily that John feared he was going to have a fit.

"I'm…..I'm…..fine" Sherlock said, covering his ears with his hands and putting his head on the table. His behavior was so similar to the way he acted right before his anxiety attack that John was worried it was about to happen again.

"Hey, let's just get out of here, order some take away at the cabin" John suggested helpfully. He reached out a hand to calm Sherlock who was now rocking so vigorously that people were staring. It was obviously the wrong move.

As he reached out and touched Sherlock's shoulder, he leapt up as if on fire and took off out of the restaurant, leaving John left behind and confused.

….

Sherlock was an impossible enigma and John had known that for as long as he had known him. Sherlock was a man of violent temperaments and mood swings, being on a manic high one moment and then in the throes of depression in the next moment. John had always tried to be unaffected by Sherlock's unpredictable emotions but it was impossible. The two had forged an unbreakable and symbiotic bond that made it impossible for one to be happy while the other was sad. It was like they shared one heart and while it was a beautiful thing, it made John feel so much more than he ever had before.

So as John wandered the beach alone, he felt like his heart was missing a part of it that Sherlock held. Sherlock had never acted so strangely as he had today and it made John worry endlessly about him. When he finally got to back to the cabin and saw Sherlock sitting on the beach in front of the cabin, he knew they had to talk, in adult language, why he was acting this way.

Sherlock sat on the sand, his bare feet crossed, hands together in his thinking pose, at the water's edge. He appeared, for once, at peace and calm and John hated to bother him. But all he longed for at that moment was to hold Sherlock tightly against him; to feel his heart beating, his skin against his own, to hold him and know that he was okay.

John walked across the sand, tossing off his shoes and sitting on the ground next to Sherlock. Sherlock opened his eyes, turning away from the burnt orange sunset to look at John. "Sorry" he said instantly, his voice pained and embarrassed. "I'm sorry I acted like that; running and twitching in that restaurant…..I acted like a crazy person. Which of course, I am. I am insane and I don't know how you put up with me." Sherlock crossed his arms over his knees and laid his head on them.

John wasn't going to allow him to keep in this self-indulgent path of personal hatred; it could get out of hand and dangerous in no time at all. He turned Sherlock away from the water and toward himself so that he had to look at him. John took Sherlock's hands so he couldn't hide his face. "Hey, you listen here Sherlock Holmes" John said firmly. "I don't tolerate you, I love being with you. You are not crazy; we all have our eccentricities and I know I must drive you mad. That doesn't mean you don't like being with me and I don't feel that way just because you're having a bad day."

Sherlock started to pout but again he tried to fight it. "I'm so embarrassed" he said in a hurt voice that made John want to hold him like a baby but he knew he wouldn't appreciate it now.

"You don't need to be embarrassed." John said, squeezing Sherlock's hands. "You did so great with the case you were on; it was so much work and you did phenomenally. It's okay for you to be tired and needy after that. I wanted to take care of you, so much. That's why I brought you here. I wanted to take care of you, and be with you…..just the two of us. You don't need to worry about how you're acting. I just feel like you're fighting being little and I don't understand why you would. I thought you enjoyed being little."

Sherlock looked away. "I do enjoy being little" he said "But….I didn't want to be little today. I tried to fight it…..but it came out anyway and I hate it."

"Why? You need to relax, Sherlock" John urged him "after all you've been through you need to relax and let yourself be taken care of. Why try to fight it so much?"

"I wanted to be with you…as a grown up" Sherlock said shyly, blushing.

John felt his own cheeks turning red; Sherlock couldn't mean it like it sounded. "What do you mean?" he asked. With Sherlock, words could always mean anything and he didn't want to do something crazy if Sherlock didn't mean it like he sounded.

Sherlock paused, thinking hard like he did only when he thought about his feelings; his brain could easily handle anything else. "I didn't want to be little today because I'm trying to figure out my adult feelings for you" Sherlock said carefully. He glanced away from John sheepishly. "I kind of wanted to be…affectionate. Not an invalid."

John took a deep breath; this conversation was going into the dangerous, personal territory that he'd thought about the whole time Sherlock was gone but couldn't manage to bring up. Sudden, unwarranted hormones flooded through his blood and made him jittery. "Sherlock, I don't think of you as an invalid when you're little. You are vulnerable and small and I enjoy caring for you." John started.

"How could you?!" Sherlock asked loudly, throwing his hands up. "After how I acted today…I was horrible! I know you couldn't have enjoyed cleaning me up or the numerous fits I threw!"

"Sherlock…calm down" John said, grabbing him by the shoulders, stopping him before he could get really carried away. "I knew that the way you were acting wasn't the way you normally act. The only bad feelings I had was that I knew you were in pain and trying to fight being little. I just wanted you to give in and let me care for you when you so obviously need care."

"T-thanks" Sherlock said sheepishly. "And I will be little. Later I'll probably be little for days. But not tonight. Tonight I want…" Sherlock's eyes grew dark, his tone heavy. Everything that was rushing in John's body went straight below the belt and felt warm. Usually he didn't care when Sherlock got stuck in his discussing feelings but this time he really him to hurry and finish his thought.

"What? What do you want?" John asked. He both terrified and excited at the thought that Sherlock might finish the dirty train his mind was already riding.

"I want to be with you" Sherlock said heavily. "I want to be with you as an adult; I want to kiss you and touch you not just in a little way."

John felt sweat springing up all over his body, his heart hammering inside him. "Uh…really? You really want that?" he asked.

Sherlock took John's stammering as hesitation. "If you don't want to, it's okay" he said. "I know I always said that I didn't want that. And I know you're not gay-"

"You're not either" John said. He had one very unfortunate incident in a bar to prove that; Sherlock had said he was jealous and John had insisted that he wasn't. He could only see now that he really was jealous. He still got angry thinking of those women, or anyone else at all, touching Sherlock like that.

"No, no I'm not" Sherlock said looking up at John. "It's just you…."

John felt warmth spread through his heart. "That's what I feel" he admitted. "I don't understand it either…other than that I love you."

John could see Sherlock's hand shaking slightly; he was a bundle of nerves and John couldn't stand to see it. He took Sherlock's hand and Sherlock smiled at him. "I love you too" he said softly. "You're not…..you're okay with it?"

"I'm okay with anything that brings me closer to you" John admitted. "I was going crazy while you were away. I just kept thinking….."

"About kissing?" Sherlock asked, then appeared completely embarrassed, as if he had said too much.

"Yeah" John said with a laugh, feeling as nervous as Sherlock looked. "Yeah, I thought a lot about kissing." Taking up his nerve, John leaned in towards Sherlock to give him a kiss and was sorely disappointed when Sherlock backed up. John didn't think he could have possibly misread the signs but he was disappointed nonetheless. "What's wrong?" John said, hoping the red in the sunset might be enough to cover up the red on his face.

Sherlock was squirming nervously, worse than John had ever seen him do. He reached up and put a shaky hand on John's face, almost hopping up and down with his nervous energy. "You're okay with us having…having some kind of relationship?" he asked. "Even though I act crazy and don't know anything about relationships? I'd make a terrible boyfriend"

Sherlock always the worrier; John hated sometimes that he had to over think everything. "I don't think I necessarily would call you my boyfriend" John said, "We're so much more than that…it wouldn't be the right word. And even if it were, you wouldn't be a terrible boyfriend. I already like everything about you now…..this is just extra."

"So you don't care that I've never…." Sherlock paused, looking embarrassed.

"Never what?" John was dying to know.

Sherlock whispered, as if there was another living soul within a mile to hear them. "I'm a virgin…..doesn't it bother you?" he asked.

John resisted the urge to laugh but not because he thought it was funny; it was just that all of the pieces were coming together now. Sherlock wasn't used to not knowing things and surely the prospect that John was so experienced in a matter that he knew nothing about had to make him uneasy. John didn't find it bothersome; it was cute. It was cute that Sherlock was worrying about it and it was endearing that he even had it to worry about. John couldn't barely accept that the burning need inside him to kiss Sherlock so if they ever got to the place of having to worry about having sex, which he wasn't stupid so he knew it would come eventually, it would be a while before it happened. And if it did happen, John would count himself very blessed to be the only one who'd ever had him. "Sherlock, that really doesn't bother me" John said, "You don't need to worry about it. Trust me, when that time comes, I'll be nervous too"

Sherlock looked floored. "You will? But why? You've done it loads and loads of times."

John didn't like the way Sherlock accentuated "loads and loads of times" but he let it slid. "Because I didn't love any of those people even half as much as I love you." he said sincerely. "And that's how I know it'll be okay."

Sherlock smiled from ear to ear, a rarity for him, especially not in little space. It was obviously all of the assurance he needed because in the next moment, John found himself being passionately and thoroughly snogged. For all that could be said about Sherlock's insecurity about relationships, he was a fantastic kisser. John's head was dizzy, swirling in a mix of hormones and excitement. He fell backwards onto the sand, the effect almost too much for him and Sherlock didn't waste the opportunity to press himself against John, enveloping him in sand and warm skin.

The last time that they had kissed, Sherlock had been telling John how worried he was that his affection would consume John. He'd seemed to think this was a bad thing; John couldn't agree because what he now felt was that he was being consumed. But he was being consumed in the greatest kind of fire, one burning from the inside out and setting every cell on fire. Sherlock searched his mouth with a beautiful and unpredictable mix of teeth, tongue and lips; there was no way John could possibly keep up. For the moment he just allowed Sherlock to search every part of him, his own hands buried deep in Sherlock's hair, holding his head as if to not let him go. As Sherlock's movements began to slow gradually, John's tongue could finally meet Sherlock's, running along every part of it before moving into his mouth. Sherlock relaxed against John, his weight pressing against John as if he too was intoxicated and couldn't hold himself up.

Compelled by a memory and suddenly on fire to try it again, John put his arms around Sherlock and used his limpness to flip him over, John pressing him into the sand as he had to advantage. Before Sherlock could protest, John's mouth was on his neck, stopping his words in his throat. When John had accidently kissed Sherlock on the neck during a tickle attack when he'd been little, the response that it had churned in Sherlock had made John feel both excited and ashamed. He was excited to know that he'd brought such a quick response to the man that offend seemed like a robot but ashamed that when he opened his eyes, Sherlock was in a nappy and onesie. He'd felt like he'd taken advantage of his little boy; he wanted Sherlock to be fully adult if he did anything to arouse him. Now that Sherlock was adult, he could fully enjoy the feel of Sherlock's neck against his tongue, the delicious moan that it elicited.

The sun had set and the sky had changed from red to deep blue-black before they finally admitted defeat and fell back on the sand, sweaty, red and tousled from the most extensive snog either one had ever had. "How can you be such a bloody good kisser and be a virgin?" John asked with some humor, his voice coming out breathless.

Sherlock turned his head to look at John, smiling. "You might have noticed I have a bit an oral fixation" he said before lying back on the sand.

"You're telling me you got to be that good from a life of dummy sucking and bottle using?" John asked in disbelief. His heart was still hammering, his lungs still aching for air.

Sherlock smiled somewhat smugly, eyes fixed on the stars, a look of complete peace on his face. "I'll leave you to your deductions."

….

After the wonderful incident on the beach, both John and Sherlock were sweaty and covered in sand so John had suggested that they have a good soak in the massive tub the cabin had; he was glad when Sherlock agreed.

It was an odd place; John didn't know if Sherlock was big or little and he suspected that he didn't know himself. Adding an adult element to their relationship would take some getting used to; being little had been a big adjustment in the beginning too. But no matter what happened, John knew that he would always treat Sherlock as if he needed care because he did, little or big.

John filled up the tub, throwing off his dirty clothes with relief. It was only when he was standing there completely naked that he realized Sherlock was looking nervous. He was pulling at his shirt as if he didn't want to get undressed. "What's the problem? Get undressed" John prodded, eager to get in the warm, bubbly water.

"Um…I…" Sherlock started to say, pulling his shirt down as far as it would go. He was squirming like his little "gotta pee" dance.

"Do you have to go wee, Sherlock?" John suggested helpfully. Sherlock hadn't worn a nappy all day and he tended to ignore his bladder's needs when he wasn't wearing one.

Sherlock shook his head. "No…..it isn't that. I'm just….." he started but got stuck again.

"You can't be nervous about undressing" John said. "I just swam in the ocean completely nude for you this afternoon." For a moment, John worried. He hoped that things wouldn't be strange now that they had kissed. He still wanted to be free to bathe together, sleep together, change each other's nappies without it being sexual.

But his worries were quickly dashed away. "I can't get undressed until I'm not…..I'm not….."He pointed down and it made sense to John.

"You're aroused" John stated, knowing it was true now that he took a closer look. He could feel himself grinning but it wasn't because he was laughing at Sherlock. Far from the truth; he was just proud he'd been able to have that effect on him.

Sherlock nodded, embarrassed. "Just give me a few minutes" he said in mortification.

"Sherlock, just get undressed" John said. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it. You've seen me aroused before. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not going to make a move on you if that's what you're afraid of."

John had meant it as a joke but Sherlock spoke quickly. "I know you wouldn't…..I trust you. It's just that nobody's…ever seen me this way" he said shyly.

John felt a surge of love toward Sherlock; it was true that bloody everything Sherlock did was adorable. He was far too lucky to have deserved to have him. "You do know you're completely adorable, don't you?" John said, grabbing Sherlock's cheeks and giving him a kiss on the mouth, because he could now, before helping Sherlock change.

" I didn't know that, actually" Sherlock said, blushing as John helped him out of his clothes. John was careful not to let his eyes linger too long on the still evident need Sherlock still had, not wanting to embarrass him further.

They stepped into the water and John let out an indecent sigh. The water was hot and relaxed every muscle in his body, making into melt against the side of the tub as he leaned back. There was soon a body pressed against him chest, arms reaching out for him. Sherlock's head leaned against John's chest and he could feel, rather than hear, him sigh deeply. John wondered if he could go to sleep if left like this; they'd had a big day. John could sense Sherlock wanted to be little even though he wouldn't admit it. John knew he was exhausted of being little; the months of being adult, fighting his littleness today, along with the emotional upheaval of their changing relationship had to be exhausting to him. John would happily take care of him but he wanted to give him an option.

"You know, we never did have dinner" John said, rubbing his hand along Sherlock's wet back. "We could order some take away, get some wine. Or…..there were a few things in the kitchen I think you might like."

Sherlock smiled, looking up at John. "Like what?"

….

They could have had fancy Italian take away and enough wine to make their heads spin; it was a good option. But that wasn't the option that Sherlock had chosen. So, instead, the side of the huge whirlpool tub was litter with juice boxes and plates covered with the remnants of dino shaped chicken nuggets and chips.

"You'll never catch me!" Sherlock said, pushing his shark squirt toy around the tub, making biting noises with his teeth.

"You will never get away from me, Mr. Shark!" John said enthusiastically as he splashed the cowboy toy up and down in an effort to chase Sherlock's toy.

"Well, maybe I could just eat you instead!" Sherlock said, turning his shark around and jabbing it at John. He still had nugget crumbs all around his lips and John smiled to himself. He had gotten Sherlock to eat two full servings and he counted that a success even it was eating in the bathtub. He made a mental note to stock their own kitchen with the cute nuggets for those times when he couldn't get Sherlock to eat anything else.

"Please don't eat me, Mr. Shark!" John said dramatically, making the cowboy run away from Sherlock's shark.

Sherlock started to giggle as he pushed his arm forward and attacked John's toy. "Too late!" Sherlock said, falling against John's chest as he laughed. John dropped the toy into the water and put his arms around Sherlock, holding onto him and shaking with Sherlock's giggles.

John had meant it when he told Sherlock he honestly didn't care if he gave into the littleness that he obviously wanted to let loose. That wasn't to say that he didn't want to be a little fuzzy around the edges, in the midst of a thorough snog; he certainly would have. But there was still nothing he found more relaxing or adorable than seeing Sherlock in little space. And after all that he had done lately, he more than deserved it.

Sherlock pulled back but kept his arms looped around John's neck. "Thank you so much for being nice to me, Daddy…even though I was really mean to you." He said. He leaned forward and gave John a childish, sloppy kiss, leaving crumbs behind on John's lips.

It was true that today was the height of Sherlock's naughtiness. He'd never so thoroughly disobeyed and defied John; but he knew Sherlock a really good reason. "You weren't mean, you were feeling poorly and it made you make bad choices" John said lovingly. "I know you've been through a lot, haven't you?"

Sherlock stuck his lip out in a pout. "Yeah….I have" He agreed.

John pulled Sherlock more fully on his lap, rubbing circles on his back. "You know, I missed you every single day you were gone" he said truthfully.

Sherlock looked down, thoughtful. "I missed you too…..so much" he said, his voice between little and big.

"You can tell me if something bad happened while you were gone" John prodded gently. Though he couldn't physically see any signs of Sherlock's pain, that didn't mean that nothing had happened.

"I was good, Daddy" Sherlock said, proud but tired. "There were sometimes I thought about hurting myself but I didn't"

John paused; ever since finding out that Sherlock sometimes subjected himself to extreme beatings as a form of self-punishment he had been more careful about Sherlock's emotional state. John checked on him often, letting Sherlock know that he had a safe place to talk about his burdensome feelings. Sherlock had admitted once since that incidence that he had given in and John did his best to be understanding and consoling. He wanted Sherlock to know more than anything that he was special and deserved only loving care but John knew that a lifetime of attitudes wasn't going to change in one night.

"Can you tell Daddy why you wanted to hurt yourself?" John asked, not letting any alarm show.

Sherlock poked at the soap bubbles in the tub. "I thought about the drugs sometimes…..I just wanted to calm down" he said. "but I didn't do that either. I was good…well, except that I didn't eat and sleep like I know I'm supposed to. Too busy."

John felt waves of relief wash over him; maybe if Sherlock could be without him for months and not give into the pressures, he would be alright. Feeling a wave of love wash over him for Sherlock, John hugged him tightly. "You did good, love" he assured him.

Sherlock smiled against John's shoulder under the praise. "I'll be fine, Daddy?" he asked. He wanted reassurance. John didn't know if it was because of his drug addiction, the beating or their new relationship or maybe all three. But on all accounts, John felt confident in saying, "You are and you will always be completely fine"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horay! They are finally together :) I know some of you were really waiting for that moment. As always, I promise in future stories the focus will always be on their non-sexual little relationship. Thanks for reading!


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